A Hundred Hobbits High
by Goodbye-Hello Again
Summary: Just a bunch of random The Hobbit oneshots and drabbles all centering around Bilbo. Pretty much all of them will be AU cause I love me a good AU.
1. The Roommate

I don't own The Hobbit.

This is just gonna be a bunch of random stories, some will be long and some will be short. I don't have the energy to actually dedicate myself to write a real story right now so I'm settling for drabbles.

Anyway starting with a short one first.

**First: In which the company does not believe in Bofur's imaginary roommate.**

Thirteen rowdy men crowded the living room of Bofur's flat, as they had every Friday night for the past two years. Before he'd moved to the spacious 3rd floor flat they'd squeeze into Thorin's for the weekly bash.

"So I tell him he can fuck himself and throw him out on his ass," Dori laughs, "Shoulda seen the lads face." The company roars with laughter, imagining the young man who'd thought he could start a fight with Dori in his own bar.

Bofur himself is reminded immediately of another tale that he knows the guys would get kick out of, "If ya think that's something, just wait til I tell you what Bilbo-" A collective groan goes up amongst the men and the host glares at his friends and family. "What!? I'm tellin ya-"

"Bofur, lad, don't get us wrong, I'm sure the stories great." Balin appeases.

Dwalin scoffs, "Except for the fact that we don't wanna hear no stories you made up off the top of your head."

"Made up!" Bofur is offended.

"Made up." Dwalin agrees as he takes a gulp of beer, "You've been saying Bilbo this and Bilbo that for two years now, but we never met no Bilbo. Over every week and we can't catch sight of this mysterious roommate of yours? Yeah, right."

"He's a photographer, so-" Bofur is frustrated to once again be interrupted.

"So he works odd hours and travels a lot." Kili finishes for him.

"And we can't see his room cause he locks it when he leaves." Fili adds.

Even Thorin decides to join in with a, "He can never come out because he's too tired."

"No trace of him in the shared spaces cause he's a clean freak."

"None of his food in the fridge cause he and his friends eat it all as soon as they buy it."

"No one sees him when we stay with you because he's away visiting family."

Bofur can feel his annoyance building as the guys continue to vent one suspicion after another. He knows it's weird that they haven't met Bilbo, but he's telling the truth. The mans just elusive, hard to hold down and too stubborn to make him meet the company when he wants to sleep. He travels the globe taking pictures of nature, and his beast of a travelling companion, Beorn, DOES eat all of the food before it can even sit in the fridge for a day. Sure, it's hard to believe but it's damn annoying to be doubted when he's telling the truth!

"Now listen here!" The suspicious chatter dies down as Bofur puffs up to his full height, "I ain't a liar and-"

"I'm home." It's silent as thirteen pairs of eyes swivel from Bofur to the slowly opening door. Standing there is a giant pile of bags. "Bofur," the voice, soft and sweet, comes from behind the bags, "a little help please."

It is only once Bofur scrambles away from his friends to take the bags and place them on the side of the door that the company gets their first look at the stranger. Significantly smaller than the rest of them, most likely no more than 5'3, and leagues softer with freckles across the bridge of his nose and messy blonde curls, the stranger seems to be just as shocked to see them as they are to see him.

"Oh dear…" The stranger fusses with his sweater before smiling at the staring group, "Nice to meet you, I'm Bilbo Baggins, Bofur's roommate."

Only when the silence he's met with drag on uncomfortably does the smile fall off of Bilbo's face as Bofur smirks at the group. "Told ye so."


	2. The Wrong Brother

You can almost feel how horrible I am at writing sex scenes in this chapter.

**Second: In which Kili falls in love...with his brother's boyfriend**

At first he'd only been excited to meet Bilbo because it had been the first time his older brother had actually been serious enough about someone to want to introduce them to the family. And what a meeting it had been, Bilbo had strolled in to dinner with flushed cheeks, sharp wit, and love in his eyes and left the Durins absolutely charmed. Even Uncle Thorin had admitted that he would be good for Fili.

After that night Bilbo was frequently seen in the Durin household. Helping Fili with homework, lounging about in the living room with the blonde, and even cooking for Fili when he was too lazy to do it himself. It had been during this time, as Bilbo slowly became a part of their family, that Kili had felt it. A soft flutter in his chest when Bilbo smiled at him, a slight catch of his breath when the older boy laughed. Just a crush, he assured himself, a passing fancy because he was around so much.

But it had grown. He could feel it surging forward with each day he spent in Bilbo's presence, and the jealousy had been unmistakable when he'd watched his brother pin the smaller man to the sofa to partake in a heated kiss. He had tried so hard to stop it, he took lovers of his own, but his heart could never be won over by those easily forgotten flings and he craved for Bilbo as strongly as ever.

It had all come bursting out though one weekend when his mother and uncle had gone to visit cousin Dwalin. Fili had promised to be home that weekend, and with him came Bilbo. It had been exciting and heartbreaking for Kili to spend time with the two people who meant the world to him, and when he headed to sleep that night he was worn out as he fell asleep almost immediately. It had been pure chance he'd woken up in the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom, and it was only on the way back that he heard it.

"F-Fili"

A soft gasp, a muffled moan. Kili had crept down the hallway, feeling for all the world like one of those stalkers from a crime show, until he could see Fili's room where the door was cracked just enough to see in. And, oh, did he see. Bilbo was facing the door, body on full display as he rode Fili. Kili froze as he watched Bilbo, his mouth open as he gasped and whimpered, his cheeks flushed, his hands splayed out across the strong chest beneath him. Kili could feel himself getting painfully hard at the display the beautiful man made and his hand was just making it's way beneath his sweats when Bilbo moaned again.

"Oh god, love you, love you, Fili!"

Everything was wrong. The wrong hands on Bilbo's hips, the wrong name on Bilbo's lips, and the wrong brother buried in Bilbo's ass. He was back in his room a second later, curled in his bed, and crying himself to sleep. That night his dreams were full of Bilbo, a Bilbo that was his.

"_Oh god, love you, love you, Kili!"_


	3. To find your Voice

Honestly, there's SO MANY THINGS wrong with this story, such as timeline and all that, but I didn't care I just wanted a cute little story of Thorin trying to find his One. So yeah, ignore the totally wrong timeline stuff and it'll be fine.

This is a fic that takes place in a world where Erebor never fell. It focused more on Thorin than Bilbo, though.

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**Third: In which Hobbits are very good hiders**

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Hobbits had once been a nomadic race. They wandered the lands of Middle Earth and met inhabitants of shapes and sizes. They hid from Orcs, avoided Trolls, and learned to fear the Goblins as every other race did, but it was not just the dark ones that Hobbits learned to fear. In their travels they became wary of merciless Elves, scared of the wrath of Men, and horrified by the greed of Dwarves. Yavanna's children were a gentle sort, content to simply sit among the flowers, and the dark nature of others shook them to their very bones and instilled in them a fear that drove them into permanent hiding. With time, as Hobbits continued to hide and even Elves could no longer remember the last time they laid eyes on such a creature, the Hobbits were forgotten with time and became little more than sweet stories mothers told their children of a gentle people who could not survive in such a world that was simply too harsh for them.

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"Ye sure about this?"

Thorin cast a glance at who his closest friend and personal guard as he swung his leg up and over his pony. The question needed no answer and they both knew it. Each and every dwarrow was born to meet their other half, a gift from Mahal, that would ensure them a full and happy life. Like his brethren Thorin had a voice, a soft murmur in his mind that spoke to him in a language he could not understand. For years now he had searched high and low for the Voice of his heart, and if it was leaving Erebor that would find him than he had no choice, but to leave. Ever since his Voice had appeared, forty years ago, Thorin had driven himself near mad trying to find his heart. Balls had been held with all the dwarrow of Erebor, and when that had not resulted in anything they had sent invitation to Ered Luin and The Iron Hills, but still there was nothing. He been the cities of Men, even questioned if any Elves had been born when his heart song had emerged, but still there was nothing.

It seemed his only choice was to travel himself, searching every small settlement there was along the way, in hopes of just a whisper of the unknown language and the lilting accenting of his Voice. Thorin would find him. Thorin needed to find him.

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They were lost. Thorin had decided that they would travel the path to Ered Luin first, then when they got to the mountains they would rest and replenish their supplies before heading out again. With a deep frown Thorin urged his pony on through the forest, sure that the path would emerge again if he just continued on straight. Behind him he could hear Dwalin moan as they came out into a valley that most certainly was not on the map, which meant it wasn't the right way. He heard his friend dismount his pony as he brought his own to a stop.

"We may as well rest here for the night, Thorin. It's getting dark and no good travelling foreign woods with no light," Dwalin sighed as he set his pack on some a patch of blue flowers.

Thorin glared at the flowers that filled the valley in front of him, before dropping his own back. "We'll continue at first light." He approached his friend and kicked up more flowers as he went, taking out his frustrations on the useless plants in front of him. "I thank you for joining me on this, my friend, I fear you may of signed yourself up for more lost nights than you counted on."

Dwalin snorted and smirked at his prince, "I've travelled with you before, I accounted for the fact that we'd be lost." Thorin gave him a strong shove as they both laughed, settling amongst the flowers and setting up their bedrolls.

It was early the next morning that Thorin was awoken by soft voices, speaking in a language that had his heart hammering in his chest. He remained as still as possible as the voices hovered over him.

"_What do you suppose they are?" _

"_Trespassers, that's what they are! I say we leave them here and hope they'll be on their way."_

"_Well that doesn't seem very polite at all…"_

"_Who gives a hoot about-!"_

Thorin opened his eyes, just in time to scare the living daylights out of the odd creature staring down at him. The girl jumped back to fall into the two boys who had been standing just behind her and Thorin got a good look at them. They were small, smaller than any dwarf, with curly hair, soft cheeks, and hairy feet. Keeping his eyes on the three he nudged Dwalin awake before he gave the creatures his full attention again.

Seeing the fear in their eyes he raised his hands in front of him as he slowly got to his feet. "I mean you no harm, I am Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son-" The creatures took off running and with only a moment of shocked pause Thorin took off after them, Dwalin right behind him. He could not lose these creatures, not now that he'd finally heard that language and was a step closer to finding his Voice. The three bounded over the hills that filled the valley, and Thorin had just made it to the top of their latest hill when he saw the first one diving down into what appeared to be a hole. The second boy followed not a moment later, and the girl was almost disappeared into the hole when Thorin caught the back of his dress and stopped her descent into the ground.

The girl squirmed in his grasp, flailing and screaming as Thorin tried to avoid being hit by her wildly swinging arms. "_Mama, MAMA!" _On the other side of the hole Thorin could hear voices approaching and realizing that this probably looked like he was attempting to kidnap the odd thing he dropped the girl and jumped down the hole after her, narrowly avoiding Dwalin crashing into him as his guard followed. He watched as the girl went tearing across the room, all hysterics and tears, into the arms of an older women he stared at him wide eyed.

In the few moments of relative peace that followed Thorin took in his surroundings. The same flowers that covered the valley above were prevalent here in what seemed to be a smaller valley with doors and tunnels lining the walls, and hundreds of lights hanging from the ceilings.

In the next moment a large group of the strange creatures rushed out from a tunnel behind the girl and her mother. At the sight of the dwarves, and the crying girl, there was a tidal wave of noise. The strange language filled the air and Thorin could feel Dwalin tensing besides him, his hands reaching for his axes should he need to defend his prince.

"_Calm down, I think what we have here is no more than a misunderstanding caused by curious children and lost wanderers." _The crowd quieted as an older man made his way through them, to approach the two intruders. He cleared his throat once he had stopped a respectable distance from the two, and sent them a kind smile. "Good morning, or it should've been at least. What business do two dwarves have here in the Shire?"

Suddenly, Thorin was thankful for the years of training he'd received on how to act as a dignitary. He and Dwalin bowed to the man in front of him, who he assumed to be a leader of these people, "Thorin, Son of Thrain, Prince of Erebor, at your service."

"Dwalin, Son of Fundin, Head of the Royal Guard, at your service."

"We were simply passing through and fell asleep in the fields above. I meant no harm to your people, I am searching for someone, and when I heard the lass speak I was sure I had found where they were. I did not intent to create such a spectacle." Thorin apologized and was surprised when the old man laughed.

"Fortinbras Took, Thain of the Shire," The man introduced himself once he'd stopped his laughing, "I'm sorry, but I find it hard to believe you're looking for anyone here. We hobbits haven't had contact with the other races for quite some time."

Dwalin sucked in a breath as his eyes widened at the shock, "Hobbits!"

Thorin wasn't faring much better as he stared at the group in front of him in shock. "We were told Hobbits no longer existed."

"Like I said, it has been some time since we have had contact with the other races. Now, tell me Prince Thorin, what leads you to believe the one you search for is here amongst my people."

"It was the language." Thorin starts, and explains to the Thain of the Voice and all that it means. By the end of the story, seeing there would be no more problems, much of their previous audience had tapered off and the Thain is leading them through the tunnels and back to his home where they will stay until Thorin can find his mystery Voice.

"It's called Hobbitish," Fortinbras explains, "Many of the Hobbits here can not speak the common tongue and see no reason to learn. The only reason I know is because the Took family is always taught out of tradition just in case. That's what we've been saying for generations now, just in case. Haven't seen an outsider my whole life, but just in case. I guess it helped after all."

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It would take two weeks before Thorin is sure he is losing his mind. When he'd stumbled down that hole he'd been so sure that he was about to find his Voice, but with each day that passed he talked to more Hobbits, and none of them were ever right. Dwalin seemed to be having a good time, accepting baked goods from the Hobbit lasses, and being flirted with down in the markets. Thorin almost wanted to remind the man that he had already found his Voice, but knew his friend was simply in awe of the discovery of Hobbits. Dwalin had always been found of soft things.

"My cousin is coming to these parts today, he lives further into the valley in Hobbiton, but he's a storyteller and makes trips to this area quite often. If nothing else, I can see if you could stay with him in Hobbiton to see if this voice of yours is there." Fortinbras offered, seeing Thorin's frustration with the lack of results in his search.

The dwarf let out a sigh and gave the Took a small smile, "I thank you, Master Took, I would be most grateful for a way to Hobbiton."

Waving off his thanks, the older Hobbit, sent Thorin off to the markets, so he didn't spend the whole day pacing and waiting for the arrival of his guide. Thorin returned that night with Dwalin, a bag of food in hand, he figured he didn't know how long the journey to this Hobbiton was and he didn't want to take food from Fortinbras. As the two dwarrow entered the home they'd temporarily been put in, the soft buzz of conversation could be heard from the doorway and as they got close enough to make out voices, Thorin was frozen.

His voice, speaking in soft tones, in the language he'd just recently learned of, echoed in his head from the dining room. Dwalin was close enough to catch the dropped bag holding the food as Thorin burst through the doorway. All he could focus on, all that mattered, sat in front of him. Golden curls, blushing cheeks, light freckles, green eyes. Thorin tried to take it all in at once, tried to study the small hands, at the same time as he tried observing the large feet, and appreciating the crooked smile.

"Ah, this must be them. I'm Bilbo Baggins, nice to meet you, Thorin."


End file.
